


Liar, Liar

by strawberrymilano



Category: Saturday Night Live RPF
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - No Girlfriends/No Wives, Angsty Colin, Bisexuality Abounds, Colin POV, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Lie Detection Tests, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-06
Updated: 2019-04-06
Packaged: 2020-01-05 11:51:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18365435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strawberrymilano/pseuds/strawberrymilano
Summary: Vanity Fair interview 5+1. Five lies told by Colin, one lie told by Michael. Not that Michael only lies once in the interview; that would be absurd. He 100% keeps up with the Kardashians, and that’s a fact.





	Liar, Liar

**Author's Note:**

> So I've never actually written RPF before, and to be honest, I feel a little weird about it. But I couldn't help it after I saw [ this Vanity Fair interview. ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VgseWz45zGo)
> 
> I console myself with the idea that this is sort of in a parallel universe where neither of them currently have girlfriends.

MICHAEL: Are you nervous about this interview?

COLIN: Not really, no.

A single twitch of the polygraph shows in the corner. And another.

COLIN: (wheezing with laughter) Already?

MICHAEL: Why not?

COLIN: I - no, I think it’s, uh… I think it’ll be… fun, uh. I think it’ll be educational, fun... experience.

MICHAEL: K.

COLIN: Excited. (wheezes uncontrollably)

Polygraph twitches several more times.

-

Truth is, Colin isn’t excited. He’s actually kind of horrified, and weirdly captivated at the same time. It’s the sort of feeling you can get watching a slow-mo car crash, or one of those videos of some barbarian biting deep into a full Kit-Kat bar instead of breaking it in half first.

Being interrogated by Michael Che, while hooked up to a polygraph? Come on, Colin can barely make it through a regular Cherrogation without spilling the beans. Now he’s got a pretty severe handicap, and it’s all gonna be on film, too. Reviewable.

He glances at Che’s pad of paper in trepidation, but Che’s already got it turned away so Colin can’t read it.

Yeah, Colin should just resign himself to his fate. Che’s gonna crack him like an eggshell.

-

MICHAEL: Have I ever appeared in one of your dreams?

COLIN: I’m sure, yes.

MICHAEL: What happened?

COLIN: I don’t remember, uh…

Polygraph wobbles wildly.

COLIN: Well, you’ve appeared in a lot of dreams where I’ve had nightmares about missing Weekend Update, like being late and running on the set, like, late, and you were there already before me - which is how I knew it was just a dream, that you were there. (laughs) I feel like I’ve had that dream, those nightmares, like that, but I don’t remember any other dreams specifically.

Polygraph wobbles again. Cut to PROCTOR, who shakes her head to communicate to MICHAEL that this was a lie.

-

There’s another dream Colin has pretty consistently about Michael Che and Weekend Update, but it’s a little less family friendly.

It starts out with them trading headlines, like normal. But then, just as he’s starting up another joke, Colin feels a hand on his thigh. He doesn’t dare glance over, sticking resolutely to the teleprompter like the professional he is, but he can see Che shifting in the corner of his eye. Then Michael dips down, and there’s suddenly two hands on him, one on each thigh.

Colin’s breath catches, but he gamely tries to keep going with the sketch. They’re on live TV, for Christ’s sake, but Michael Che is under the desk, puffing hot air onto the line of Colin’s cock while he squeezes up Colin’s thigh muscles in a hypnotic rhythm, thumbs finally dipping into the divots of his hips and _pressing_ just as Colin shakily delivers the punchline.

The audience laughs, clueless, and Colin smiles weakly. His zipper gets pulled down by Che’s teeth right as the next cue card drops.

The details get a little fuzzy after that, depending on the dream, but that’s the general gist.

-

MICHAEL: Have you ever done something backstage that may be considered illegal?

COLIN: Yes, absolutely. I would say almost every week.

MICHAEL: Really.

COLIN: Well, maybe not. That’s not - that’s not true.

MICHAEL: Like what?

COLIN: Don’t… recall. What was the question?

Polygraph goes fucking haywire. MICHAEL laughs.

-

To the surprise of absolutely nobody, some of the SNL cast smokes weed behind the scenes. Hell, Michael and Colin were smoking together with Pete Davidson just the other week, shooting the shit.

Colin had watched the smoke bloom out of Michael’s mouth, and thought the kind of vaguely disconnected shit only a high person could think: Damn, I wish I was made of smoke. They could call me Smokey Robinson.

Then he’d laughed, and Michael had turned towards him with half a smile already on his face, asking, “What’s so funny, white boy,” which, for some reason, made Colin laugh even harder.

He hadn’t explained, though. Even high off his ass, he knew it would’ve been a bad idea. Cross a line like that, and everything else might come spilling out.

Like the fantasy Colin has, where Che flips them both over and holds him down while they’re shotgunning.

Michael would pin him by the wrists and stare at him with dark eyes, before pushing the smoke into Colin’s lungs with a slightly patronizing comment in that deep voice of his. Something like... like… _What’s so funny, white boy?_ Then he’d snicker, folding his weight down onto Colin’s body so that he could feel the laugh roll through Michael’s belly.

God, it would be so good. Colin would squirm and giggle in mild embarrassment when his breath ran out, of course, but he’d be so turned on he wouldn’t even be able to shoot back a witty retort. Probably just gasp and beg for mercy, or something.

-

MICHAEL: Uh, have you ever lied to me?

Polygraph zigzags before settling at a strange place. Both laugh.

COLIN: This is great. (polygraph returns to normal) Uh, yeah, I’m sure I’ve lied to you at some point.

MICHAEL: About what?

COLIN: I don’t know.

Polygraph squiggles.

COLIN: I like that it thinks that I had a specific thing in mind.

MICHAEL: Well, I had a - a follow up question. Was it for me, or for you?

COLIN: It could have been either. Or both.

MICHAEL cracks up with a little scoff.

COLIN: (fumbling) I - I mean, I’d never lie to you about anything important. It would have just been, like, a dumb -

Polygraph scribbles an entire symphony down while COLIN waffles.

COLIN: (tapering off) - little thing…

MICHAEL looks at the detector, and then back at COLIN. He shakes his head.

MICHAEL: Movin’ a lot.

-

A year or so ago, Colin and Michael ended up being the only ones left at the bar. They were both pretty drunk, after four or five hours of cast partying.

“Hey, Che,” Colin had said, thinking about how he could laugh just by looking in Che’s direction.

“Hey, Jost,” Michael said back.

“You’re really funny. And cool. ‘M glad you joined the show, and that I get to see you all week. I dunno, I just, I love you, man.”

“No homo, though, right?” Michael had asked with a grin and a pointed slant of his eyes.

“You wish, Che,” Colin said fondly, and clapped Michael on the back. He chewed his lip a minute. “But... no. _Definitely_ no homo,” he’d decided, reminding himself that if you repeat something into the universe enough times, it’ll eventually become reality. _Oprah said that,_ he thought, _so it must be true._ “Can we get another round over here, good sir?” he’d called to the bartender, forcibly taking his hand off Che’s back before it could get weird.

-

MICHAEL: Do you believe you’re the handsomest guy on SNL now?

COLIN: I don’t know… no. But I don’t know. I’m trying to think of who - I’m trying to remember everyone who’s in the cast.

Polygraph wiggles uncertainly.

MICHAEL: Little jumpy, for that one. You’re trying to remember everyone in the cast? You’re looking at one…

COLIN: No, I don’t, that’s… just... reminded me.

MICHAEL: Wow. Alright, well, do you think I’m second?

COLIN: No, because I think you’re first.

Polygraph jumps once, then settles.

Both wheeze. COLIN’s head dips into the crook of his elbow, he’s wheeze-laughing so hard.

MICHAEL: Wow.

-

The lie isn’t actually what Che thinks it is. It’s not that Colin doesn’t think Che’s first.

Colin just didn’t need to remember everyone in the cast to decide that.

God knows, Colin’s jerked off enough times to Che to be able to know his opinion on the matter pretty thoroughly. No consideration period necessary.

On the one hand, Colin’s relieved that Che misunderstands. On the other, well… Colin’s a little miffed that Che accepts it so readily. Michael’s so fucking handsome it _hurts_ Colin sometimes, and he feels like Michael should know that. It’s not like Colin’s life is being ruined by it, or anything.

-

They switch places soon after that, and Colin relaxes into the questions he’s prepared. They’re a lot tamer than Che’s, that’s for sure. Of course Michael would want to make it as hard as possible for Colin every step of the way.

Pun fully intended, of course.

-

COLIN: Do you think we would make good roommates?

MICHAEL: No.

Polygraph squiggles. MICHAEL looks over at the machine, aghast and betrayed.

MICHAEL: (in a raised voice) I don’t wanna move in with him!

Polygraph squiggles more insistently.

COLIN: You’re gonna fight that?

MICHAEL: I don’t think - I don’t think we’d make good roommates.

COLIN: Why not?

MICHAEL: I don’t know. Do you think we’d make good roommates?

COLIN: I think it would be… interesting.

MICHAEL: ...Nah, don’t think so.

The polygraph stays steady.

-

Later, when they’re on the train, moving on to the next stop on the PR circuit, Colin frowns. He can’t say he’s surprised that Che thinks living with him would be boring, but it still hurts. Yeah, he’s an optimistic, straight-laced piece of whitebread, and he’s nowhere near Che’s level of cool, but they’re friends. Good friends, even. They’re basically opposites, personality-wise, and that dynamic is part of the reason they bounce off each other so well in sketches.

Michael’s sitting in the next seat, listening to headphones with his eyes closed and leaning his head against the window. Colin can hear the faint buzz of a bassline.

Colin studies him, the way the flashing neon lights wash over the planes of his face as the train trundles down the tracks.

He gets caught staring when Che cracks an eye open.

“Whatchu lookin’ at, Jost,” Che snarks.

Colin wheezes a laugh halfheartedly, and shakes his head. “Nothing.”

An elbow pokes him in the side. “Hey.”

Colin looks back around, and Michael is sitting up with a frown on his face.

“What’s buggin’ you? You look like some guy dropkicked a kitten in mittens off the Brooklyn Bridge or something.”

A real laugh bubbles out this time, but it’s too late. Michael’s like a shark smelling blood in the water when Colin’s in a mood.

“C’mon, man. Was it something I said in the thing? Which - oh.”

And, bingo. Che’s already narrowed it down. Might as well fess up, try to clear the air a little bit.

“It’s fine; you don’t want to be roommates with your much cooler coworker, I get it,” Colin tries to say lightly. It comes out petulant and insecure instead, he realizes with a wince. “I’m - um, forget about it. It’s - not a big deal. Really.”

Michael just sighs. “You’re full of shit, Jost.” He leans forward a bit, rubbing his chin. “Look, it’s not what you’re thinking, okay? It’s...”

He trails off, and Colin glances at him. Michael’s nose is scrunched up, the way it does when he’s thinking fast to come up with the exact words he needs.

“I didn’t say it wouldn’t be interesting because you’re boring, or whatever it is you’ve convinced yourself of already. It’s more that, uh...” Michael makes a face. “Well, let’s just say I’ve signed a six-month lease with someone in a similar situation before, and it… didn’t go so well, afterwards.”

Colin blinks. And then blinks again.

Because he’s heard this story.

“Are you talking about… Colleen?” Colin asks blankly.

Che’s eyebrows shoot up. “You… know that story?”

“Of course I do!” Colin retorts. “Do you even know how many times you’ve told me? Whenever you get really drunk and start complaining about the price of living in New York, you always bring up how you had to live with her for four and a half months after she shot you down because you couldn’t afford to pay the break-off fee.”

Che looks a little dumbstruck. “...Shit. Didn’t realize you knew about that one. Must get pretty drunk before I tell that one, huh.”

“Yeah, you do,” Colin chuckles. Then, his eyes narrow. “Wait a second. Did you just say, you think this - this as in, you and me, as roommates - is a similar situation? To the _Colleen_ situation?”

All of a sudden, Che looks shifty. “.....No?”

“You did! I heard you say it!” Colin says triumphantly. “You just don’t want me to shoot you down and be stuck in a lease for four and a half months!”

“Shit. No, uh, that’s - ” But before Che can really contradict anything, Colin interrupts.

“If _that’s_ the reason why you don’t want be roommates, then there’s no problem. It actually works out perfectly,” Colin says, nodding to himself.

“Um, Jost - ”

“You know, I’ve got this whole online folder on apartment hunting I’ll share with you. I’ve picked out a few places that look good, you should see what you think about them. What are your thoughts on crown moulding?”

“Jost, I think you may have just missed the point of - ”

“What, I can’t do some preliminary research on apartments? Hey, y’know, lemme just get my phone and share this folder with you right now before I forget, and we’ll be up and running - ”

“Jesus fucking _\- Colin!”_

Colin looks up from his phone to find that Michael has a wild, frenzied look in his eyes.

“Colin,” Michael repeats. “What part of me, not wanting to get shut down by you, are you _not getting,_ here?”

Colin stares at him. He thinks he gets it pretty well, actually, but before he can open his mouth to say so, Michael continues in a fervor.

“Look, we can’t live together, okay? It’s fine, I get it, you’re Straighty McStraighterson, and that’s fine. Yeah, we’re friends, but I’m not just gonna be able to ignore it afterwards and keep on living together like everything’s fine and nothing’s happened. I’m telling you, man, it’s boring, it's a _freaking cliche,_ and I can’t...” He hesitates for a second, and crumples a little. “I just can’t do it. Not again. I’m sorry.”

Oh. _Oh._

 _That’s_ the problem.

...Still.

“...Straighty McStraighterson?” Colin says, trying to force down a hysterical giggle. Because that’s the thing his brain decides to focus on, of course. It’s clearly the wrong thing to say, given the twist in Che’s expression, so he scrambles to make it right.

“Hey, hey.” Colin reaches out and grabs Michael by the wrist. “Stop that, I just - look, Michael. You don’t have to be worried about that.” He raises an eyebrow meaningfully. “At all.”

Michael’s eyebrows knit together. “What are you - are we even talking about the same thing, here? Like, am I saying words at you, and you’re morphing them into completely different words? Is that what this is? Are you suddenly the anthropomorphized version of reverse Google Translate?”

Colin smiles, bright like the sun. “Nope. Nothing like that.”

Michael’s eyes narrow. “So, what are you saying?”

“What am I saying? I’m saying...” Colin blows out a breath to get over the sudden nerves that pop up in response to that simple question. Implying it is one thing, but cutting the bullshit and actually saying it in plain English is another.

“I’m saying...” His eyes catch on Che’s lips, on Che’s eyes, on Che’s throat as he gulps. Colin leans in close, noses the tender spot under Michael’s ear and murmurs, “I’m saying, I’m not always as bad a liar as you think I am.”

Che’s frozen in his seat. Colin doesn’t even think he’s breathing.

“I’m saying… the only time I’m gonna ‘shut you down’ is when I make you come so hard, you can’t string together a complete sentence.”

A small, desperate sound slips out of the back of Michael’s throat at that, but he doesn’t move a muscle.

“I’m saying… ” Colin wets his lips, tongue close enough that it skims the surface of Michael’s vibrating skin, making Michael shudder. “I’m more of a _Bi_ -ee Mc _Bi_ -erson.”

Che barks out a surprised laugh, and immediately claps a hand over his mouth.

“Jost, you...”

Colin leans back out of Che’s space, suddenly shy. He can feel the telltale burn of a blush on his cheeks, and he can’t seem to meet Che’s eyes. “Yeah?”

“You _asshole._ You know there are other people in this car right now, don’t you?”

Colin frowns. “...Yeah, so?” They’re just talking. In an undertone, even.

Che rolls his eyes, like Colin’s being a complete moron.  “So now I’m gonna be _that_ guy.”

“Um… What guy?”

 _“That_ guy.”

Colin opens his mouth to say something like, _Thanks for the detailed explanation, I know exactly what guy you’re talking about now,_ but it’s lost in the moment that Che hooks him by the jaw, drags him in close, and mauls him with the kind of spectacular, out-of-the-blue French kiss only seen in especially angsty romantic dramedies.

When Colin’s finally released, he’s literally seeing double, he’s so dizzy from the rush of it. He sucks in air when he remembers to breathe.

“Wow, even your _ears_ blush,” remarks Che, still holding his head in place with an iron grip that probably turns Colin on way more than it should. “Wonder what else I can get you to blush with.”

Colin’s eyes go lidded, staring at Che’s mouth helplessly. He licks his lips, not entirely of his own volition. “Ah, um...”

Michael raises his eyebrows expectantly.

“...My, uh… penis?” Colin finishes weakly.

Michael chuckles. “And here I was thinking you were smooth,” he says, before swooping in to kiss the bejeezus out of him again.

“I’m smooth!” Colin protests when they break for breath. “I’m… smooth. It’s just, y’know, extenuating, um - ”

Michael waits patiently for him to finish the sentence instead of stopping him with his mouth, like the complete asshole he is. “Uh huh, sure. Extenuating?”

“Circumstances,” Colin breathes, and lunges in to kiss the smug smirk off of Michael’s way-too-handsome face before he can embarrass himself any further.

Shit, he realizes belatedly as he curls a hand around Michael's jaw to keep him close, in full view of the rest of the train car. Now _he's_ that guy.

Eh, he'll care later. He's a little busy right now.


End file.
